After leaving Duman Center, Sophia, Irene, Irene's parents and I went to their car, a nice-looking SUV. Irene's mother drove--no driver today and no cultural reservations about a woman driving. Irene's father worked nearby, not at the Embassy, but inside some rather tall building (but not tall enough to be a skyscraper). Then Irene's mother drove us for some time until we reached a parking garage. As we went inside, she explained that it is very important to keep your car inside a garage! In the winter, it gets very cold, and your car may not start if it's not been in climate-controlled conditions. Sure, the garage was cold--but not freezing, and that is an important distinction.
We then went outside and into a tall apartment building. I think she was on the 13th floor.
Irene's apartment was nicer than mine, to say the least. However, it was not excessively large or grandiose, nothing like you see advertised in the New York Times Magazine. Just a nice, large apartment. We unloaded our winter gear by the front door, and Irene's mother explained that in her culture, people change shoes indoors. (Here, everyone takes off their shoes when they enter a house, but I don't know if they change shoes.) So she gave me an extra pair of indoor shoes, which were much too small for me, but since they were slip-on, it did not matter.
Sophia and Irene went to her room, where there was a mini-playground--a climbing ladder and a trapeze or something like that. But Irene kept insisting that it was dangerous and they should not play on it. She wanted to play a computer game, and so we went into the living room/dining room to use the computer.
Irene's mother made me Turkish coffee while Irene tried to get the computer game to work. It would not, and so her mother brought out some toys. But Irene really did not want to play with her toys, and she put in an movie--Flushed Away. We watched it, I drank Turkish coffee and then tea, and talked some to Irene's mother. She is an architect, but is able to work from home with her company in Turkey.
After the movie, Irene still did not want to play with her toys, no matter how many her mother brought out (mostly Barbie dolls and other dolls, pretty similar to Sophia's collection of toys). Irene's mother was very much like a middle-class American mother, her concern was with getting Irene to act correctly--play with Sophia, be mindful of others' feelings--without getting too involved. Both of us tried to guide the children to playing together, without becoming overly involved. It wasn't easy.
Finally, we found some colorful paper that came in a box with instructions on how to make things with the paper--a doilie, some flowers. Irene consented to help Sophia make something.
Her father came home from work and happily talked about different programs on the Internet to call internationally for cheap. Her mother cut up some fruit for us to eat. I learned that there is an American library, and it is near their home. You can borrow books and English-language DVDs there, and eat American food such as apple pie, and they go frequently. Saturday they would be at the school (Irene has piano lessons) and afterwards they would go to the library. He offered to take Sophia and me, and also invited Irene's teacher. I was more than happy to accept an offer to find an English-language library!
I also learned that they have only been in Kazakhstan for 9 months. That means that Irene has had less than 9 months of Russian instruction--school was out for 3 months over the summer. And her Russian is so good! Considering that she can translate what other people are saying, from Russian to English, when her native tongue is Turkish, that is pretty impressive. It gives me hope that Sophia will become more adept at Russian--right now, she is struggling.
In Turkey, Irene had gone to a school that also taught English, which is why her English is so good.
Finally, I could sense that it was time to go. I wasn't sure where I was, or how to get home, so her father offered to help me get a taxi.
In Kazakhstan, any car can be a taxi.
We went outside and to a corner, where he flagged down a car for us. At first, I think he was going to give the driver our address and let us go on our own, but then he got in. It was a bit amusing, that he was helping us--considering his Russian is worse than mine. But he had taken a Kazakh taxi before and knew how to flag one down (not hard, many cars will stop for anybody who looks like they might prefer to be in a car).
On the ride home, I asked him if taxis in Turkey were like this. No, he said, there were official taxi cabs, and you used those, not just any car that happened to stop for you (like the US and every other country I've been in).
We arrived in front of our apartment building, and I thanked him profusely and promised to see him on Saturday. "Happy birthday!" he called to Sophia as he closed the door.
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